


friendlyneighborhoodspiderman

by thedevilchicken



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Caffeine Addiction, First Time, M/M, Seduction, Table Sex, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23602399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Tony needs some distraction. When he finds Peter camming online, he's pretty sure that's not the distraction he meant...but he'll take it.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 239
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	friendlyneighborhoodspiderman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Highlander_II](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/gifts).



Tony has done a lot of really dumb things over the years. Falling overboard from a yacht off Monte Carlo and getting pulled out of the water by a team of women's volleyball players. The ice bucket challenge. _Iron Man_. But he's pretty sure this takes the cake. 

He's online. Which, okay, he spends half of his life online, but he's online right now in a really specific capacity, because it's one of those nights where his brain hasn't stopped whirring around like a hummingbird on acid for the last, hey, more like eight nights. There's only so much caffeine a guy can get inside his body without actually resorting to intravenous injections or those dumbass coffee enemas one of Pep's buddies from yoga class keeps telling him about when he gets trapped with him in the elevator. And, since they split right after the whole saved-the-world, kinda-died, hey-guys-just-kidding thing, the only other thing that gets him out of his head and back into the world has kinda walked out of the door. No sex for Tony. Jerking it in the shower really doesn't have the same effect.

Sure, so he could just go crash a party and pick up a flirty girl with teeth he's pretty sure glow in the dark and legs as long as his entire body, but that's kinda not who he is these days. Mostly because he'd need to go take a shower and leave the lab for that. And he's definitely gonna take a shower. Just...not right now. He's busy. With the big screen in his lab that he's pretty sure he should transfer to the small screen in his bedroom so he's not sitting there gawking with his dick out where anyone could see. Anyone who's not F.R.I.D.A.Y., at least, who he's pretty sure has seen him do worse. He's pretty sure almost everyone he knows has seen him do worse, if not in person then on TV.

Tony has done a lot of really dumb things, but he's pretty sure this is the dumbest. Because Peter's on his screen and what's on his screen is absolutely not in the realm of official Avengers comms. Peter's on his screen in his college dorm room, the one Tony played Anonymous Benefactor to get him into solo due to the whole Spidey thing so he feels kinda like this is all his goddamn fault, with his dick out and his Spider-Man mask on. And the hell of it is, it's not even the first time he's watching; he found the site six days ago and here he is, again, _again_ , like some internet pervert who can't get enough. 'Cause he can't, that much he's realized, that much is really, really evident right now. And okay, that much he already knew. 

He was really just looking for a good time the first time, not even a long time, and he'd caught one of those shitty ads on some website eighty websites deep into a research black hole that'd stopped being research maybe four hours before that. He thought hey, why not, best damn online security in the world, and he clicked, and he scrolled, had Fri whip up some maybe-not-totally-skeevy anonymous account so he could browse the member pages, peek at the action, that kind of thing. There were girls online, and there were guys online, and he hovered, and he thought: _fuck it, why not click a guy_ , see where it went.

The first guy was a buff dude tickling his johnson with a huge pink feather duster, which okay, sure, but it turned out that was a hundred percent not Tony's kink. The next guy was doing something unspeakable with a wide variety of hollowed-out squashes. And some of the others, sure, they were fine - they were shirtless guys having flirty conversations, they were pantsless guys jacking it in front of their crystal-clear 4k webcams, but none of it really did it for him. He tried - he gave his dick a halfhearted stroke, but the best he could do was a semi. Maybe it was the caffeine. Maybe it was the sleep-deprivation. Maybe it was the fact he still had math floating in his brain like some dumb goddamn meme. Or maybe none of the guys were quite what he'd had in mind. 

He scrolled. He scrolled some more. And he scrolled right past him the first time, maybe even the second time, but sometime right around when he should've been passing out or discovering the medical effects of caffeine dependency, he saw it. He saw _him_. And sure, so the name on the feed was _friendlyneighborhoodspiderman_ , and that could've been a hundred guys who just figured it'd be a gimmick pervy internet guys were into. But it for damn sure wasn't a hundred other guys who'd made that mask. That was Tony Stark. He'd've known his own work anywhere, and that meant the guy under the mask was Peter. It had to be.

He shouldn't've clicked. He told himself not to. He walked around the lab with his hands in his hair telling himself out loud, like he ever listened to himself, that no, _hell_ no, he wasn't going to click. F.R.I.D.A.Y. helpfully asked if he wanted her to turn off the screen and delete the account and he said yes. He told her to belay that, like he was a fucking Starfleet captain or he'd just taken up tall ship re-enactment instead of just contemplating really dumb ideas when it came to webcam sex work. He said yes, no, in, out, shake it all a-goddamn-bout, till he sat down on the stool at his workbench and he hit himself in his dumbass head and yelled out loud like it was end of the world stuff, not just _is Peter Parker a camboy?_ stuff. Except then _friendlyneighborhoodspiderman_ blinked offline. Now he couldn't click. And he introduced his forehead to his bench with a thud and F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked if he wanted the number for a therapist - or maybe Peter's downtown dorm - and he wondered how he'd wound up creating an AI who regretted his life choices maybe even more than he did. 

But ten minutes later, spidey was back online. Tony clicked before he could talk himself down, waited past the loading screen that warned him his credit card was being charged, and told himself he was just checking, no harm in that. Just checking if it really was Peter or if he'd lost his mask in a gutter someplace in Queens and Tony needed to go swoop by a camboy's dorm to swipe it back in full Iron Man armor then leave it out on Peter's desk. Just checking if maybe he'd gotten it totally wrong and hallucinated the way the mask's eyes focused, that way he'd made for Peter so he could tell what he was thinking even in the suit because for damn sure he couldn't keep his thoughts off his face the rest of the time. And hey, maybe if it _wasn't_ him, he'd've found something to jack off to after all. 

Five seconds in, he knew it was Peter. Five second after that, he was hard as a rock with his track pants popped out at the crotch like a tent on a national park campsite that one time Howard had decided hey, maybe bonding with his son was a good idea. He turned it off. He turned it on. He turned it off. He turned it on. He turned it off and on like some kind of dumb tech support sketch or a Genesis track and jeez, Peter probably didn't even know who Phil Collins was. Tony had been to a gig once, smashed, but he was pretty sure he still remembered the lyrics.

"So, hey, highway69," Peter said, squinting at the screen to read the ID like he really needed to squint, like, ever. "You having technical issues? I see you're kinda in and out." 

Tony groaned. Of course Peter could see that at his end, some jackass with a lame AI-created username doing the virtual Hokey Pokey. So he typed back, _all cool here_ , hit enter, groaned again because who even said cool right now? He was absolutely some rich businessman with a Gordon Gecko haircut straight outta the 1980s. 

"Hey, that's great," Peter said. "Glad you could, y'know. Join me? I thought maybe you'd gotten cold feet." 

Tony frowned. _feet really warm_ , he typed back. 

Peter laughed. "Yeah, I guess I'm kinda cold right now," he said. He rubbed his chest. He rubbed his nipples, which really were kinda standing out, now he mentioned it. "I mean, that doesn't really help. But maybe it looks good? I don't know, I'm still working all of this out."

 _new at this?_ he typed. 

"Pretty new. Y'know, even your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man's gotta pay the bills somehow. Not all of us heroes are Iron Man." 

Tony's gut twisted. Maybe that was guilt. Maybe that was lust. Maybe it was the four Twinkies he'd eaten for lunch...yesterday. He was pretty sure it was yesterday.

"So, hey." Peter shifted. He was sitting on his bed, and the bed creaked underneath him. "You want me to do anything?"

_do what?_

"I dunno. There's this one guy who does this thing with a feather duster, but...I'm pretty sure I don't own one."

_anything ur good at?_

Peter shrugged. "I'm pretty good with math," he said, then cringed inside the mask and out of it, like a whole-body cringe Tony could practically feel. "I mean, not that math is hot. I mean, I like math, I don't _like_ math. Some people can make it seem kinda sexy, I don't know, but...I know, you didn't mean that. You meant like...sex, right?"

_right_

Peter tilted his head at the camera. He shifted again. The bed creaked again. "I guess... I guess there's this one thing I do."

_yeah?_

"Yeah, I. Y'know, it's kinda embarrassing."

_u can tell me, spidey_

Peter laughed. He shrugged again. "I don't know if anyone would even want to see, but. Well. I can make myself..." He leaned in toward the camera, almost conspiratorial. "You know. _Do it_. Without touching." 

And fuck, Tony's dick took a sudden and serious interest. He should've said no, thanks. He should've turned the whole goddamn internet off everywhere in the goddamn world before saying anything other than no, thanks. He should've built a suit to blast him straight into the goddamn sun before saying anything other than no, thanks. But he typed, _wow, spidey, sounds hot_.

"Really?" Fuck, Peter sounded so hopeful. "I could do that. Instead of just talking about math like maybe you get off on college calc. Would that be good?"

 _i cant wait_ , he typed, instead of _NO, THANKS_ , all caps, or maybe picking up the phone and calling him to see if he'd say he had to go and turn off his cam and go pick up. But it turned out _i cant wait_ really didn't translate to FUCK NO and Peter stood, and he hooked his thumbs into the waist of his Spider-Man underoos and he pulled them down. He kicked them off. And he stood there, in front of the camera, only visible from mid-chest to knee with his dick right there, _right there_ , on Tony's immense screen. He was soft, still, not huge but a pretty good size, proportional, and wow, he so very much did not need to be applying adjectives of any kind to Peter Parker's junk. He groaned and he told himself to look away, just look the fuck away, feign technical issues, something, anything, but then Peter's cock started to thicken. It started to harden. And Tony's, still flopped out and hanging there, got stiff in roughly three seconds. He hated that. He kinda hated himself, truth be told. 

He watched Peter's dick get hard, and get flushed, and grow a little, with a little shiny bead of precome right there at the tip that fuck, he would've given anything to lean in and lick off. That was a pretty bold thought for a guy who had so damn much, he realized, but he also realized it was pretty much absolutely true. Maybe caffeine had made him a desperate man. Maybe he'd been kinda desperate for a while where Peter was concerned.

 _fuck thats hot_ he typed, because it was, and he felt like Peter ought to know. 

Peter ran his hands down his thighs. "You really think so? It's not just kinda dumb?"

_not dumb. hot_

The precome at Peter's tip started to leak down over the thick vein underneath. Tony bit his lip. 

_what ru thinking about?_ he typed. 

"Uh." Peter shrugged; Tony could tell by the way his hands flapped wide then clapped his thighs and made his dick give a kind of jiggle that Tony could almost feel, for fuck's sake. "There's this guy I know. I mean, there's some times I think he looks at me like he knows I'm not a kid anymore because, well." He waved both hands at his leaking erection, like something out of bad college porn. "I'm really not a kid anymore. And he's great! He's smart. Really smart. And really hot."

 _classmate?_ Tony typed, wishing he didn't feel so goddamn jealous.

Peter laughed breathlessly. "No, I guess we kind of work together? Sometimes."

_avenger?_

"Sure. An Avenger."

_ur into thor? hes pretty hot_

Peter's cock gave a little kick at that, and bobbed as he laughed again, fuller this time. "I mean, Thor's great, don't get me wrong. Really great. But..." He shrugged and waved both hands at his dick again. "It's for Iron Man, I guess. Don't we all have a boner for Iron Man?"

Tony groaned. And he couldn't help it - fuck it, okay so he could've helped it - but he wrapped his hand around his cock and squeezed. He was pretty sure his boner wasn't for Iron Man, at least. It was for a nineteen-year-old college kid with an erection he wasn't even touching and sure, so he'd known Peter had the hots for him, just a crush, understandable, could've happened to anyone, but fuck, _fuck_ , hearing it was too damn much. _Seeing_ it was too damn much.

He killed the chat. And he came all over his keyboard fifteen seconds later, laughed till he felt sick and told F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get the bots to burn it. Or at least disinfect it really well. 

But the thing was, he went back the next night, and Peter was there. He went back the night after that, and Peter was there. Tonight's the sixth night in a row and he gets so far, gets to Peter's dick on his screen, basically the size of a parking meter, and he knows he can't go through with it. He can't watch Peter Parker get off hands-free for some guy he doesn't even know while he's thinking about him. Even if the guy he doesn't know _is_ him. Even if he really, really wants to.

So, tonight, he gets online. And he thinks maybe, _maybe_ , he'll go find the guy with the thing for gourds, or maybe there's some guy with a foot-long schlong he can auto-fellate - that's always kind of a good time. Or he could quit this shit and find a girl, maybe a blond but she'd remind him of Pep, maybe a redhead but then again that's Nat, maybe...who the fuck knows, but at least he wouldn't be perving on Peter. But, because he knows himself, he knows what he's going to do before he does it, even while he's trying to claim denial. He clicks. The chat loads. And there's Peter, larger than life. 

"Oh, hey!" he says. "It's getting late. I thought maybe you weren't getting online tonight." 

_needed a break_ , Tony replies. 

"From me?"

_yeah maybe_

Peter frowns. The mask pseudo-frowns. Tony did great work, but he's not totally sure he'll ever be able to look Peter in the face again, not in that mask; maybe he'll design a new one that's as static as his own. But the thought of Peter in his suit, _the_ suit, is a road he really doesn't need to start down, because he's pretty sure he could come in his oil-stained track pants just thinking about that. 

"You want a break from me?" Peter asks. And the way he sounds is so damn adorable, so damn _heartbreaking_ , that Tony's not sure how he's not busy all the time, raking in the dough, a hundred little swag bags with dollar signs painted on the sides stacked up all around him instead of all his physics textbooks. And fuck, if this is the last time he's doing this, if he's going to make a clean break, give this shit up cold turkey, he figures he's going out with a bang, no regrets. Well, maybe regrets later. 

_u ever wear iron mans armor?_ he types. 

Peter frowns at the frankly really weird non-sequitur. "No. I mean, not his, no."

_u want to?_

"I guess I've thought about it. Haven't you thought about it? I don't know if it would fit, though. He's bigger than me."

_he could make it fit_

"Sure. He could do pretty much anything, he's Tony Stark."

_u want him to fuck u?_

Peter nods. "Yeah. Yes. A lot. Really, a lot."

_how?_

Peter points to the desk that's right at the edge of the shot. "He could bend me over that, I guess?" he says. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'd just jizz all over his suit if he turned up and saw me like this right now but I can go a few times, it's pretty embarrassing. I've got lube. Maybe the suit has lube? I don't know, I should take a look at the schematics sometime. But he could fuck me over the desk. I don't know if I'd be good, I guess I'm kinda inexperienced and he's...well, he's _Tony Stark_. Do you think maybe he'd like that?" He ducks his head. "I mean, I'd move the textbooks first."

_maybe hed help with ur homework after_

"I'm pretty good at physics. He wouldn't need to." He pauses. He takes a slow breath in. He swallows, and gets closer to the camera. "You wouldn't need to, Mr. Stark," he says. And Tony's head just fucking reels.

His suit takes a matter of seconds to deploy. Takeoff takes another few. The flight is minutes. And all the time, it's like hours in his head, like days, like a goddamn _month_ , like he's planning contingencies for contingencies like what if Peter didn't know, what if it was some dumb camboy roleplay, what if all of this is some kind of game? But Peter doesn't play games, or at least he doesn't play them well, and when he stands there on the fire escape outside Peter's sixth floor window, tatty shirt and track pants once the suit's reeled in, fuck. He's a mess. He's a total mess. He's not this great guy, this shining beacon of manhood Peter thinks he is. He's a nerd making shit in his parents' basement, except on a global scale. 

But he knocks. And when Peter opens up the blinds and opens up the window, he leans there against the sill and he says, "Oh, wow. _Wow_. You came." He stands back, naked except for the goddamn mask. "Coming in?" he asks, so Tony ducks inside. And before he goes a single step further, he snaps Peter's laptop shut and shoves it underneath the bed so maybe, just maybe, he can act like his own really bad decisions haven't led him here. 

"So, the desk?" Tony says, and Peter looks at it dumbly. Then he says, "Oh." His eyes go wide and he says, " _Oh_." And he makes it across the room in what's basically a blur he moves so fast, and he bends right down over it, mask still on, and Tony's fucking lost. He follows him there, and Peter's right - he has lube. Not the suit, no, but he tucked a tube into the pocket of his track pants and he uses it, fuck, he uses it, a whole lot of it, getting it between Peter's cheeks and over his hole, _his hole_ , Peter's asshole's under his fingers and twitching at the contact and he should not be doing this, but he's doing this. He is definitely doing this. _They_ are. 

"Mr. Stark..." Peter says, almost a whine, like he doesn't know what he wants but he wants something, he really wants _something_ , so Tony presses his hole with his fingertips. He pushes one inside, watches Peter stretch to take it. And Peter gasps against his desk, where the physics book's still sitting, and he arches his back like maybe he wants more. So Tony gives him more, sliding his finger in right up to the knuckle, and Peter says, " _Mr. Stark..."_ so Tony gives him more again. It's maybe not enough prep but he figures it'll do right now, he figures he'll take it slow when he fucks him, _when he fucks him_ , jeez, his dick's so hard and the flight was really uncomfortable, and he shoves his pants down around his ankles and he lubes himself like maybe he wants to use the whole tube, just in case. 

He pushes his tip to Peter's hole. He pushes his tip _into_ Peter's hole. He watches Peter's hole stretch, watches Peter's hole take him. It's fucking surreal, like going to space, just casually, like saving the world, like snapping his fingers. And Peter says, " _Wow_ , Mr. Stark," like it's the best thing that's ever happened instead of one of maybe the top ten worst. 

So, he fucks him. He has him over the desk like he said he wanted, with his hands at Peter's hips and his dick inside him, Peter's ass so tight and hot it's like it's going to swallow him whole like some fucked up anime he watched once in the nineties, which was _before Peter was born_. He fucks him, and Peter pushes back against him, too hard the first time, a little of that friendly neighborhood Spider-Man in it, and Tony staggers back and Peter really can't stop saying _sorry, oh wow, I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn't--_ until Tony pushes him back down and pushes straight back in. Peter stops talking. 

And when he comes, when he shoves in deep and he comes in him, comes _inside him_ , really dumb but he's that kind of smart-dumb somehow everybody loves, his mind finally clears. When he catches his breath with his dick still pushed in deep, and he rubs kinda fondly at the rim of Peter's hole, he gets it. Finally. Sometimes he's not even smart-dumb. Sometimes he's just kind of a dick. 

"So, how long have you been planning this?" he asks, and Peter pulls his mask off, right there, with Tony's dick still in him. He glances back over his shoulder with a sheepish smile, and fuck, Tony wants to kiss that smile. He wants to kiss his mouth and his devious fucking fingers that have set him up like this, catfished by a smartass teenager who needs his computer privileges well and truly revoked. He wants to kiss his neck and his collarbones, and the tip of his dick that he notes is still hard. That's interesting. He'll need to take care of that really soon.

"Oh, you know," Peter says. "A little while. F.R.I.D.A.Y. helped." 

"Well, she always did like you best," Tony replies. "I guess I rubbed off on her."

When he pulls out, he thumbs Peter's hole and slicks his rim with his own come. Then he toes off his sneakers and he kicks off his pants and he sits down on Peter's bed, wearing a shirt and nothing else but Peter seems to dig it. And he says, "Hey, I never did see you do that thing you do." He leans back against the headboard, bare from the waist down. "Not the math. We'll get to the math later." He raises his brows. "Turns out I do think college calc is hot." 

It doesn't take long for Peter to come. He really doesn't need to use his hands, but Tony likes to think it's mostly because he's in the room; maybe next time they'll test that, but right now he pulls Peter back against his chest and sighs into his hair.

Tony's done a whole lot of really dumb things in his life. But y'know, turns out he has no regrets about this one.


End file.
